Try to smile and enjoy the old man's accomplishment

Published 4:00 am, Monday, July 20, 2009

Moments after Auld Tom Watson clanked a 8-foot putt on the 18th at Turnberry on Sunday, the Grim Reaper himself appeared on the green.

I know Scotland is a spiritual place, but man, they don't fool around when you goof up on one of their precious golf courses.

The Grim Reaper turned out to be an actor in a TV commercial for a putter. So Watson's death on that 18th green was figurative, not literal. He was allowed to stick around and face the grim reality of a four-hole playoff with Stewart Cink.

Watson folded and Cink won the British Open.

When it was over, Watson seemed conflicted. He probably will spend the rest of his life mentally flipping a coin - Thrill of a Lifetime or Most Colossal Disappointment?

Because Watson is a mellow, up-beat guy, and because he gave a marvelous performance, he no doubt will see this tournament as a great achievement, reinforcing his standing among the all-time greats of the sport.

But he's also going to see that putt on 18 a million times, as well as a couple shots at the second and third playoff holes. Those moments are burned onto the hard drive under his cap.

"It tears at your gut," Watson said at his post-match news conference.

Of course, when you're 59, pizza tears at your gut.

Watson will have to deal forever with the pain of losing the 2009 Open, because he knew in his heart he could win. At no point during the four days of the tournament did Watson see himself as a stowaway on the great ship that is the British Open. He didn't consider himself lucky.

He came to Scotland expecting to play spectacularly, and when he played spectacularly, he wasn't surprised.

Everyone else was. Golf is a young man's sport, and that young man is Tiger Woods. Woods missed the cut, which is a shame. Imagine if Tiger had been his normal self, and he and Watson had dueled on the final day. Bagger Vance and Auld Tom Morris would have floated into the gallery to watch that.

Watson, though, was more than up to the task of carrying the show, and his style is a nice contrast with Tiger's. Woods spent most of his two days at Turnberry pouting, flipping his clubs and acting out the death scene from Romeo and Juliet.

Tiger writhes in pain over bad shots. With Watson, you can't tell from his expression and body language if he's just hit a great shot or dumped one into the Firth of Clyde.

In this, the age of the Game Face (see: Kobe Bryant), Watson played four days with a smile. He smiled and made eye contact, and the fans reciprocated. They love his temperament and his game, and they love how deeply he loves their sport, and their courses. Watson probably named his two kids Heather and Gorse.

His game is pure. Watson, despite his age, disdains the belly putter, the club that says to the world, "My nerves are shot. Don't make any loud noises or I'll impale myself on this thing."

He brings to the game a dignity and serenity that is best appreciated by the Scots. Also, they love that he proves that golf isn't for only the young, muscular hitters who dominate the superlong American courses.

The Scots like how Watson talks to himself, because they believe he's discussing course strategy with Auld Tom Morris, who won the Open in 1867.

In Scotland, where the average golfer is 97 years young, the folks really appreciated the age angle, although in this observer's opinion, the commentators on TV made too much of that. Those dimpleheads pretty much agreed that if Watson won, it would be the greatest sports story of all time.

Easy boys. Fifty-nine is old, granted. But let's not equate a Watson win to something like a team winning this year's NBA Finals led by Paul Westphal, George McGinnis, Artis Gilmore and Dr. J, all nearly 60. Or Dusty Baker (barely 60) leading the league in RBIs.

With all due respect, golf is different. Last year, Greg Norman led the British after three rounds. And Springsteen is 59 and still rockin'.

Still, age is said to affect a golfer's nerves, and Watson was remarkable under pressure. The only exception was that putt on 18. With the gallery reverently silent, you could hear Watson's underwear bunch up.

Until that moment, though, his performance was a treat for fans everywhere. We found our thrill on Turnberry Hill.